You Look Good In Orange
by Ultracape
Summary: Elizabeth reluctantly sends Neal on a strange errand to the middle of a wilderness. Spoilers: Only slightly for "Need to Know" and takes place sometime after that.


You Look Good In Orange

By Ultracape

Genre: Gen, friendship, humor (I hope)

Characters: Neal, Peter, El, Hughes, OC

Summary: Elizabeth reluctantly sends Neal on a strange errand to the middle of a wilderness.

Spoilers: Only slightly for "Need to Know" and takes place sometime after that.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: This kind of popped into my head and so I wrote it when I was supposed to be working. And this makes me different from everyone else because?

You Look Good In Orange

By Ultracape

Except for Peter Burke and his team, Neal Caffrey was not fond of law enforcement personnel; certainly not fond of them at all.

Also, city boy that he'd become, despite his wish to have more than a two mile radius to wander the concrete valleys of New York City, these days, whenever he saw more than three trees in a group, he felt faint from fear about being stranded in the wilderness.

Well, yeah, that was a bit of an exaggeration. It would take considerably more than three trees. But Neal did prefer not having to walk more than a block to a variety of establishments where almost anything that he needed or wanted could be had, uh, purchased. He had to remember that subtle difference if he didn't want to get Peter angry with him. Angry Peter, even severely annoyed Peter, could equal prison and Neal did not want to go back to prison again.

So of course, for some reason beyond Neal's comprehension, Elizabeth Burke had woken him at 3 a.m. on a Sunday morning with a phone call from San Francisco, to tell him that the U.S. Marshalls had given Neal special dispensation to meet Peter at the sheriff's office and auto mechanic's shop in some Podunk place called Laceyville, Pennsylvania tucked away in one of the meandering bends of the shores of the Susquehanna River. He just had to file his route with the Marshals and the time of travel and all would be well.

"But," she cut him off.

"I can't reach Jones or Diana. Neal, I know it's an imposition but it's got to be you and you've got to hurry."

"Well, no, Elizabeth, of course it's not an imposition, you know I'd do anything for you and Peter."

"Great, that's great. Listen, take a bus. Oh, oh, no, I don't mean take a bus. I mean travel on a bus."

Neal chuckled, "I know what you mean. Buy a bus ticket. Got it."

"Oh and take your F.B.I. Consultant's I.D. and you have the $10,000 in cash that the F.B.I. gave you back from that sting a few days ago?

"Yes, I do but don't you think you should..."

"Just bring it, all of it," she cut him off again.

"Huh? What? How? Where? Why am I going to…,"

"Sorry, gotta go," she hung up before Neal could even form one of the dozens of questions that buzzed around in his mind after the bombshell was dropped.

"Okkkkaaayyyy," Neal thought as he reluctantly left his nice, warm, cozy bed to trudge over to his laptop and start a websearch. He would have felt put-upon except for the several dozens of times that he had put upon Peter at all hours, so he figured, it was only fair that he get put upon. However, when he put upon Peter, Peter only had to travel across the East River, from the semi-civilized Brooklyn suburbs to Manhatten.

Neal had never even heard of Laceyville, though he had to laugh when he found the place listed on a website labeled "Podunk."

"Elevation 692, population 385, huh, that must be reversed," he said to himself but as he rubbed the sleep that still clung to his eyes he realized that the first impression was right. "What the heck is Peter doing there, on a Sunday?" he asked of the computer screen, but no answers magically popped up.

Then, since he had to take a bus instead of conveniently stealing, (borrow, not steal, borrow, he had to remind himself of that) a car, or take, no hire a cab, the fare would have cost more than a Renoir anyway, and Peter had still not allowed him to apply for a legitimate driver's license so that he could legally rent a car, he was left with buses or trains and so it took him at least an hour to find transportation. It had to be a bus, or rather a series of buses. It was going to be a very long trip.

Despite his usual sartorial splendor and expensive tastes, Neal had spent a good portion of his youth traveling by bus so except for the occasional sleepy passenger dropping a head on his shoulder and drooling on him, the screaming children and their mothers, the trip, already topping six hours, was not exceptionally uncomfortable.

Besides, this far out away from the city the scenery was green and lush and beautiful. He really hadn't been able to see anything like this in a very long time and besides, "it's only Peter's own fault that he has to wait so long," Neal thought even as he watched the mountains and forests role by while sitting safely protected from nature inside the commuter bus. It was the last one of three he'd had to transfer to from the steadily shrinking hubs of civilization.

Unfortunately there was one aspect of urban civilization that was quite evident, especially to one such as Neal who had trained himself to be aware of ever lurking agents of the law, lurking in out of the way and unexpected places, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting dishonest and guilty criminal.

There were an unusually high number of police cars, artfully tucked away in curves, and hidden drives and behind signs the mountainous Route 6 as it traversed the Adirondacks. The way they were placed he could tell that few others would readily notice what must have been speed traps. But it wasn't worth more than a thought. He was a legitimate paying passenger on a bus and if anyone would be in trouble for a driving misdeed, it would be the bus driver, not him.

Finally, the bus turned down a sharp curve and a steep decline and onto a street that was lined with vacant lots and an occasional store, church or bar. It finally came to a stop in front of the only open establishment, a feed and grain store.

Unbending himself and climbing down the steps to an actual wooden sidewalk, he stretched a bit while looking around. "So here I am," he thought as he took in the one and a half streets that made up the bustling metropolis looking up one and down the other for the mechanics shop/sheriff's office.

He saw a saw a small grocery store, an actual video tape rental, a furniture store, a post office, a library which was sadly smaller than his closet, and the aforementioned feed and grain store, a hardware store and five bar and grills, but no mechanic's shop.

"You're not from around here, are ya?"

Not wanting to stand out was what a con man did and so though his jeans cost more than the car rental would have been, his button down was made of silk, and the boots he'd chosen were of hand tooled leather, the general form of his attire at least conformed to that of the local costume he'd seen a couple of individuals wearing before they'd ducked into the feed and grain store as well as that of a man leaning against the open hood of a pick-up truck.

It was not without a little paranoia, actually a lot of paranoia that fortunately he was able to conceal a lot better than Moz that he realized his large, bearded interrogator was wearing on his shirt, a brightly shining silver star with "sheriff" stamped into it and one point ominously dented in with a round hole.

Instinctually, Neal knew that with the way the man was wiping his hands with a dirty rag and looking him up and down, this was not a time for sarcasm.

"No, sir," he said in as polite and diffident a manner has he could manage, "You're right. I'm not. From your badge I believe I'm here to speak to you, actually, Sheriff Clyde Foster, is it."

"Yeah, yeah, that's me," he said closing the hood of the truck.

"I'm Neal Caffrey," he said holding out his hand.

"Ah, you must be the fella they sent to fetch the mooks," he said taking Neal's hand and shaking it with a not surprising amount of strength in the crushing grip.

"The …." Neal cut himself off. He didn't want to fall into any rooky mistakes and admitting that he had no idea what the guy was talking about would not bode well.

"You sure you can handle them fellas, puny guy like you?" The Sheriff said as he released Neal's hand and watched him rub it. "I'll tell you, those two city slickers have given me more smart ass back talk than any six drunks on a Saturday night."

Conceal, conceal, conceal, was all that Neal could think before the sheriff offered up more information. And where the heck was Peter? And mooks? He was supposed to transport mooks? Those were what law enforcement called suspects.

So him, Neal Caffrey a felon on parole, was supposed to transport criminal suspects? What type of monumental screw-up, the best case scenario, or frame-up, the worse case scenario, had he been thrown into? But it was Elizabeth who had called him and she was the last person in the world who would be involved with anything incompetent or sinister.

The unvoiced questions mounted as he followed the sheriff to his mechanic's shop and then down some back stairs to a well lit basement, half of which was furnished with an ancient but serviceable desk, chair and file cabinet.

The Sheriff pointed with his chin to behind Neal but before he could turn around, he heard a familiar voice bellow in an ever increasing louder voice, "What do you mean Jones isn't coming? You, no, no, don't tell me that El, just don't. You called Neal!"

Slowly Neal started to add two and two together and before he completely turned, there was a grin on his face that no amount of con man artistry would ever be able to erase.

"You look good in orange," he said.

Peter, dressed in a brightly covered jump suit, dropped his cell phone as he stared at Neal in horror.

"Not one word Caffrey, not a single word or I swear," Peter said his hands clutched around the iron bars of the jail cell keeping him captive.

"You threatening an officer of the law?" said the sheriff, "You're in enough trouble the way you were speeding down the road. You want another charge added to your sheet?"

Suddenly Peter was pulled behind by none other than Reece Hughes, also adorned in an orange jumpsuit.

"No sir, no he doesn't and neither do I," he said to the Sheriff. "Mr. Caffrey," he turned to the con man who was making soft choking sounds as he was attempting and miserably failing to keep not only laughter but any sort of amusement from his face. "Why don't you pay our damages so that we can get back to New York some time this year."

Neal barely managed to nod as he looked over the list of offenses and charges. Speeding, he had already gathered, but endangering the wildlife was a new one on him, property destruction, destruction of an historical monument, the list went on and on. No wonder Elizabeth and told him to bring a lot of cash. He just hoped he had enough.

"With the condition that all the damages are paid today, you can take them out on probation and you won't have to bring them back as long as they keep their noses clean for six months," he told Neal.

"You got that," he called back to Peter and Hughes.

Then to Neal's utter shock and surprise, he was handed the keys to Peter's beloved Taurus. "Oh, yeah, you're the only one who can drive it."

Neal looked at him questioningly, "Both their licenses have been revoked. They must have been going 65 and in a 20 mile zone." Neal's mouth formed a silent "O." This was just getting better and better.

He turned back to Peter and Hughes as Neal stared open mouthed at the car keys. "Remember. I got the word out. We'll be watching you all the way to the state line."

The devil on Neal's shoulder poked him and he just couldn't resist, "that's right, you wouldn't want me sending you back here behind bars, now would you?" he grinned at his handler who was turning redder at an alarming rate.

"Mouth closed, right," he reminded himself silently.

The sheriff reached into a cabinet and pulled out two sets of neatly folded clothes and handed them to Peter. "You're fishing gear is still in your car. Now you change while I help this young fella square away the violations. You two would do well to follow his example you know. It's good to see a nice polite young fella with the proper respect for the law, come through here even if he is from the city.

Neal was sure he was hearing Peter's teeth grind and growls coming from his direction. "A fishing trip, a great new place you heard of for a weekend fishing trip, Burke, and we end up here."

"It wasn't my fault," Peter practically whined. "Can I help it if my foot slipped onto the gas when I saw that huge bear?"

The Sheriff had his arm over Neal's shoulders now, "Its bear season, no reason for them to get hysterical about one little cub, the judge's son's pet no less, crossing the road. I mean it and he had to be blind to plow into the mayor's memorial cannon lawn ornament.

Neal just nodded politely. "Yes sir, we'll look into the driving, I promise you." The sounds coming from the cell were getting really frightening.

"Now listen, you seem like a sensible young guy, so I'm paroling them into your custody and I'll trust that you can keep those two out of trouble."

Neal didn't have the nerve to open his mouth. He knew that he was way beyond being able to form words without bursting out in hysterical laughter. Also, Peter looked like he was ready to kill him if he said so much as a word. Yes, keeping as quiet as possible was his best strategy for survival in the wilderness right now, especially with these two dangerous and one possibly homicidal prisoner in his custody all the way to New York City. So he just crossed his heart and made a scouts pledge which seemed to satisfy his new, best buddy, the sheriff of Laceyville, which Neal was nominating as the most beautiful and desirable vacation spot on Earth. He could not wait to tell Mozzie.

Besides, as Neal followed the sheriff upstairs to the mechanic's shop he started thinking of all the blackmail material and how to best use it. Top of the list was a dinner, on Peter, outside his radius at a nice five star restaurant, for Elizabeth. He'd definitely invite Diana and Jones to thank them for whatever reasons they could not make the trip.


End file.
